


Anger? We Wear it Well

by VindictiveStorm



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Light bashing of paragon characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:21:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22314736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VindictiveStorm/pseuds/VindictiveStorm
Summary: “Who told you that ‘experience’ was a prerequisite for love?”Lena clarifies, biting out in a harsh breath.
Relationships: Alex Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 13
Kudos: 66





	Anger? We Wear it Well

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I never watched this shitshow beyond season 1, because I'm not a fan of poorly written, directed shit on a plastic plate.  
> 2\. I'm not ok with Sanvers in canon // fanfix's are accepted  
> 3\. This is definitely not part of my ACOP  
> 4\. Can be my 'how they first actually met'
> 
> This work is also sponsored by how brain dead I find 'they're a lesbian couple but don't worry one still wears tux and pants UWU' put them both in dresses you hyper hetero themer.// Not addressed to those identifying as Not-Women.

... "Do you know if she likes you?"

"No I ... I don't want to talk about it anymore." 

And they won't ever again, if Alex has anything to say about it. She's recognized that look on sister’s face that shitty afternoon, it was the same face that she made when the rattled 14 year old woken her up from a fevered sleep, having broken something - there's nothing more to say, or do than to move on and take whatever came next. (Even if her mom had been a little crazy about the ugly vase no one else particularly cared about.)

She has shoved about 3 burgers down when she gives into the thought that maybe it is unfair to think of her sister like that, to hold her onto something that ancient - the thought that she's an insufficient figure of support, when that had never been her role in Alex’s life, and was more appropriate as an endeared partner in crime instead. But it is clear that she needs to talk about this, the need was undeniable - but who else in this dreaded life did she have? There were no right candidates - all of them too judgemental, too lighthearted, too ... experienced. All of them who have narratives that so easily, so singlehandedly, trivialize the complications she is concerned with. 

Her traitorous memory - impeccable, nearly prodigious, but so often unused (and unneeded, she despairs in private) due to the nature of her work - brings up the Cursed Night again, and again, and again. And she dies a little inside every time it plays out. It's not cute. It's funny. It's hilarious, even, hysterically so. It's something the internet would eat up like it's the cutest thing of centuries. But it isn't. It's humiliating. It burns her in shame - not because she was rejected - but because she has no idea what had possessed her to assume that she was the white lead girl who was promised a happy ending, to lead with her heart, like she's fucking 14 years old, and consequences didn't exist.

[i]"You should experience that for yourself, not just to be with me" [/i]

And for a fresh moment of clarity, even though she's being publicly rejected, with god knows how many witnesses around her, it makes sense - what the fuck was she doing just wandering around, following the beck and call of the First Lesbian she converses with? That she meets? Coming to Kara with something so heavy, so foreign - she'd never done so before (and she vows she never will again). Or eagerly reporting a job done to someone like she was a mutt - Hank never got that privilege, and her mother certainly never had either. Had she been so de-socialized from normal society that she thinks this is what acquaintances of a week old are supposed to divulge with one another? 

[i]"And I shouldn't get involved with someone who's just fresh off the boat those - those relationships never really work out,"[/i] and what was she supposed to do but nod, but to accept the wisdom of this experienced lesbian, who warns her of her own experiences with people like Alex. 

And her smile, the sheepish, the feigned apology in it haunts Alex for months. 

\---

When she comes up with her answer, her decision, she comes up to L-Corp herself, no badge, no gun, only in her modest civvies. She may as well have been wearing a paper bag when she notices Lena Luthor’s dressed in several millions from waist up alone. But then she remembers the woman allowed her in without an appointment and figured it wasn’t just to judge her, and so she settles rigidly in the white little chair, in front of National City’s most mysterious CEO. 

“Ms. Danvers, or is it Agent Danvers, this afternoon?” Lena immediately questions her, “I’m a busy woman, and I’m sure my assistant has told you how tight my schedule is. You’ll have to forgive me if I’m refusing to help with any more questions or projects the government wants from me,” the young woman begins, leaning back in her plusher chair.

“Good thing I’m not government today,” Alex shrugs, nerves settling when she finds her opening to present her odd motives. “If you’re not up for business, then how about helping with a personal project?”

“I don’t know what lies your sister have told you about me, but I feel I should warn you about sharing anything with me - I’m a business woman first, and a friend second, during business hours,” Lena smirks, darkly, although not unfriendly. “But answer this first,” her tone takes on a grave and severe note, “how do I know it’s not government related?” 

“Because I doubt the government would appreciate me consorting with morally-ambiguous third parties about how I should waste their time and money for my week long vacation,” Alex snipes back, crossing a leg over a knee, comfortable now. 

Lena seems to take a moment, deciding whether or not to take offense at what has been put forth, but in the end, she falls back, deeper into her chair, crossing her arms, “Paid?” She inquires with a raised eyebrow, feigning disinterest, but Alex has had a little sister for far too long, and easily spots the muted mirth, the untamed curiosity.

“I’m heartbroken, not brain damaged,” Alex sniggers lightly, unwilling to let the bitter self depreciation boil - at least not in front of Lena Luthor. And to her relief, it plays out as if it were scripted. The Mistress of Lesser Evil herself manages to crack an amused grin at that. 

“Taking a paid vacation to run from a lover? I never took you for a quitter or a runner, Ms. Danvers.”

“Oh no, I assure you it is much worse than that,” Alex uncrosses her legs, leaning forward with a hand cupping the side of her mouth, as if sharing something horribly scandalous, “you see, I plan on ghosting ‘em. Burning everything I’ve got here and maybe even outrunning the feds when they try looking for me.” If anything, Alex considers to herself, it would be a million times easier than trying to outrun and ghost Kara.

Lena goggles at her, then barks out a laugh when she realizes the gleam in Alex’s eyes are actually serious. “I believe I’m beginning to see why my assistance with this personal project of yours was necessary. You think I know where to keep bodies, and secret tunnels?” She asks, all shark-like. “Maybe tap into my brothers network to find you some way to keep to the skies for a month or two even?” 

“Show off,” Alex scoffs, rolling her eyes, detecting the self-hating, and perhaps even accusatory tone from the younger women, but she neatly side steps it. Refuses to touch it with a 10 foot pole. Refuses to acknowledge, enable, and deny it. She wasn’t Kara. “As … nice, as your offer is, I don’t think hanging in the sky for a week is what the doctor recommended for broken hearts.”

“ … You were serious about the broken heart?” Lena startles, calming from her twisted narrative. She blinks, before her shoulders relax, and as if she had been on stand by, ready to pounce and tear into her, she’s demure now, like a well fed kitten. “You’re actually going to ghost an ex?” She gapes. 

“Absolutely,” Alex nods, resolutely, not bothering to correct the small nuance. “They keep us enforcement types running in the same cages underground, can’t recover in peace or quickly enough if I stay in National City. God knows where I’ll end up seeing them if I stayed.” 

“Then perhaps we ought to get you somewhere with a bit of sun,” Lena muses, kindly, staring upwards before turning to the keyboard resting at her right side, typing quickly. “Somewhere with a lot of sun … open skies. Ah, yes. How about a luxury cruise trip?” Lena hummed, turning the screen to show Alex what she had dug up. 

Alex is the one taken aback this time. It was one thing to rile up her sister’s new friend, new rich friend for a whimsical discussion on ‘best places to go to when you want to ghost someone’ but it seemed that the Luthor’s heart was easily reeled and just as easily devoted to her cause. It’d be rude to not commit the full way now. 

“Full view of the sun? Open sky? Spoil a girl, why don’t you?” Alex murmurs dryly, as her eyes skim the overview and features of the trip advertisement. When she reads a certain line however, she chokes on a gasp, nearly jumping out of her seat - startling Lena back flush against her own chair. “I … It’s - women only?” 

“Oh, yes. A lesbian cruise,” Lena nods, smiling. “What better way to get back on your feet than with supportive people every which way. Or maybe even to tumble with under a starry night, you certainly seem the sentimental type,” she sniggered, before her gaze fell onto Alex again and mourned, if only for a moment, that the fire seemed to die in those pretty brown eyes. “Are you … is that not something you are open to?” 

Her question only made the agent startle and jump once again. Very virginal, Lena noted as she patiently awaited for an answer. So far, the agent had exceeded her expectations, it wouldn’t do to jump to conclusions yet again when Alex had proven to remain unpredictable. Surely, the woman wasn’t about to come out to her as a raging violent homophobe, was she? 

“I … I’m fresh off the boat,” Alex confesses slowly, each word carrying quieter into the otherwise silent office. Ah, Lena smiles, perhaps a little evilly when the agent’s face begins to heat and flush a pretty red. She raises an eyebrow, has to bite on her own tongue to keep from outright cackling. 

“Congratulations,” she says sincerely, but when Alex ducks her head, shadows falling and accenting the bags under her eyes, Lena realizes something was wrong. 

“Yeah … so I really shouldn’t … put myself out there, for other people. It’s not fair to ‘em … I have no idea what I’m doing, or w-what I need to - It’s just not going to end up well.”

As Alex continues to ramble on, Lena stops listening. 

She’s so angry, she can’t bring herself to hear another word. 

What the hell was this even? 

A confession? No. 

These weren’t words Alex learned herself. 

No one just KNOWS how to describe themselves like this. Like they’re broken, like they’re damaged goods. Like they aren't qualified enough, or haven't passed some test.

Shame like that, was taught. Was told. Was informed. 

It was taught by some cruel, unthoughtful asshole. Was it someone who was only looking for a fun spin, and realized the redhead wouldn’t be easy? Was it a parent who was so disappointed they thought to curse their own child to a life and death alone? Or was it just someone who didn't want the hassle of training up their personal lesbian to be their picture perfect companion? Someone who just wanted food, sex and silence and knew a fresh-out-of-the-closet lesbian couldn't do any of the above?

“Who told you that?” Lena cuts through Alex rambling. Cleanly. Efficiently. With a voice as hard as steel, a glint in her eyes that was nearly murderous.

She was no stranger to cruelty. Be it from her own family, or from irrelevant, unimportant parties. The best thing about having lived through that now was that she is rich, smart, and powerful - more than enough to save anyone, even if it was just this one woman who had been told to - 

She bites her lip, focusing on one thing at a time. Because murder wasn’t the right answer. Not yet. 

“About being fresh-”

“Who told you that ‘experience’ was a pre-requisite for love?”Lena clarifies, biting out in a harsh breath. “If this was … Chad,” Lena rolls her eyes, “who told you this, who you liked, who you asked - and he decided to tell you he doesn’t like or date inexperienced women ... you're a smart one, Ms. Danvers, you know exactly what he means to say, don't you?” 

The response, the simmering fire that relights itself in those previously doe eyes makes Lena want to crow vindictively - having found someone who welcomed anger, who recognized and detested injustice, unfairness - especially as keenly as she had, was rare, and Alex, she finds, wears it gorgeously. 

“It isn’t just a gay thing. Don’t ever hold women to a different, lesser, standard.” Lena bites out, as the last of her anger evens out, seeing that Alex more than covers that portion she decided to spare. 

“That’s one hell of a reminder,” Alex breathes out after a while. “It’s not hard to remember the worst in people, not when …” her head tilts and Lena nods, silent laud to the dark grasp of anger they apparently share, “but Kara … eventually it’ll rub on you too Luthor. So I think I’ll be able to return the favor one day.” 

“Unlikely,” Lena sniffs, indignantly. As if one woman, some blonde blue eyed puppy, could make her give up the hot anger that propelled her through 3 PhDs, alpha-test her cancer cure, and open 14 orphanages and homeless shelters within 2 weeks of staying in National City. Being nice was overrated, and very fucking useless, she'd found.

“In that case I’ll reserve the right to say ‘I told you so’ when I find [i]you[/i] looking up lesbian cruises next time,” Alex chuckles, standing from her seat. “I’ll get out of your hair now, sorry for eating up so much of your time.” 

“No, thank you,” Lena replied, prompting a tilt of the head from Alex. “I needed something to light my fuse. It’s how I get through 12 meetings a day and actually accomplishing anything.” 

Alex salutes cheekily, “glad to be of service, Ma'am.”

**Author's Note:**

> //EDIT: for the record, I only write and post when I’m really angry. I dont hate any one person - that alone is not enough to push me to write anything. 
> 
> No one I've reached out to in the sanvers space can tell me how the cheating was ever addressed. Something I guess I'll have to do myself.
> 
> I'm also calling bullshit on how you all wouldn't actually try and fucking ghost Maggie if you decided to fucking confess and KISS her like that - you tumblr gremlins. 'No! I'm going to go back to work and back into her orbit like nothing happened even if I am angst-ing it' shut up and cry into your pillows, calling out of work, you bottoms.


End file.
